


Inconvenient

by friedorama



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 23:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13535310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friedorama/pseuds/friedorama
Summary: It never seemed to be a good time.





	Inconvenient

The house ends up being in an architectural mess of geometry, with marble floors leading to several spacious rooms being occupied by her drunken classmates. She had lost her friend in one of the rooms early on, and gave up looking for her after accidentally interrupting the 3rd couple. She backpedalled with half murmured apologies, careful to not knock over the errant red cups along the hallway floor and tried to navigate her way back towards where she hoped the over indulgent kitchen should have been. Thankfully, she found an unopened bottle of something fruity looking, and a door to the unoccupied outdoor pool.

Allura walked a ways before she could hear anything but the sounds of the party in full swing. The garden provided a few private areas, and not wanting a repeat of the inside of the house, she chose to stick close to the pool itself. With a look back to the house and a small sigh, she took off the heels she borrowed from her sister and let legs dangle over the edge. The underwater lights made her legs darker than they actually were, and she imagined herself as just a shadow floating along.  
It was almost peaceful, being in between the chaotic noise of the party and the quiet gurgle of the pool’s automated cleaner. Reluctantly, she opened the stolen fruity bottle, cringing at the sudden noise the carbonation made. She waited for the noise to be swallowed up by the relative silence before taking a tentative sip. She waited again for the peace to return.

Her head whipped around when she heard someone shriek behind her. Allura hadn’t noticed anyone else when she first came out, and was suddenly struck as to what to do; they had clearly not noticed her, and of the two, the boy clearly wasn’t keen on whatever the two were doing. The girl seemed intent on taking her shirt off, vocalizing to her partner that she was _j’ssss ffffffffffffffffine_ and could handle the water no matter how badly she walked. She wasn’t walking in the water anyway.  
Holding her fruity drink to her chest, Allura got up just in time to watch the drunken girl jump into the pool by herself. Her partner, looking tired and resigned waited a few feet away, holding the offending shirt. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at Allura like he wanted to confirm that yes, he was going to have to deal with his partner on his own. He walked up to the edge of the pool and paused, reluctantly taking his shoes off and putting aside his phone. He looked back at Allura once before starting to unbutton his shirt. 

The boy suddenly stopped once he heard his partner’s uncoordinated flailing in the water. A quick curse and he jumped into the water, half-buttoned shirt and all, easily grabbing and dragging her back to the edge of the pool. Allura helps to lift the sputtering drunk girl up from the water and settles her away from the ledge. She unties her own white hair and uses the elastic to hold back the drunk girls’ hair, easily keeping it away from her mouth as she recovers her breath. Her partner appears on the other side of the girl with a towel, and tries to wrap it around her. She struggles with a mutter _nooo ffffffffffffun, ‘iRo!_ And eventually quiets as he cocoons her in terrycloth. He breathes heavily, letting the water continue to drip off him, his clothes and his dark hair.

Allura continues to kneel by the pool with them; the girl having passed out wrapped in the towel and her partner’s arms; the boy’s breath has slowed a little, but remains fast and tense. She quietly stands, retrieves the other towel and moves to put it over the boys’ broad shoulders. He starts, and murmurs a quiet thank you as it settles. The peaceful calm that Allura had found earlier is slowly returning, despite the frenzy the pair brought.

“I’m sorry for this” the boy whispers to her. Confused, Allura looks at the boy, not understanding. He shifts his partner, and motions with a hand. “Honerva. She’s not always like this.”

Allura wasn’t interested in knowing who the girl was, and just wanted to be back in a quiet peaceful spot with her forgotten bottle of whatever that flavour was. She looks back to the house, back to the boy holding the sleeping Honerva-not-always-like-this and shrugged her shoulder. “It’s ok.” She stands, and takes a step backwards. She twists her fingers together and awkwardly clears her throat. She is suddenly envious of the cocooned drunk girl. “I, uh…. should leave you two alone.”  
He looks at her for a moment, like she had not heard him and his shoulders drop. He looks down at Honerva and back to her. He seems suddenly smaller, very unlike the swift and assured rescuer he was just moments ago. “I’m sure the party is still going on.”  
Allura half-heartedly offers a nod, and turns back to the house. Reluctant to get lost in the marble maze, she turns on the flashlight on her phone and lets herself out the side gate and onto the street.

  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Allura had a preference for sitting by the window. It was by far the best place to be – she could feel the sun on her dark skin, be hypnotized by the rain and feel the energy of the people passing by without leaving her seat. Saturday afternoons were by far the best time for this.  
“So this guy..” her friend liked to bait her into conversation when she was clearly lost in thought. “…this Layteur? Lemur? You’ve hung out with him how many times? Like, seven?”

Allura sighed to herself, and played with the spoon in her coffee. “Lotor. Rhymes with Motor.” She gives Lance a look before continuing. “Remember that insane house party where you ditched me? I think that was at his father’s house.” She goes back to looking out the window while her friend focuses on his phone. He’s scrolling for a bit, sips his outrageously decorated sugar bomb of a specialty drink and quickly types out a few words. Scrolling, sipping, scrolling, sipping, stops.

“This guy, right?” He turns his phone for Allura to hold. She sets her latte down and reaches for the phone. Her eyes widen at the image in front of her: a picture of Lotor, laughing at a round shouldered dark-haired guy being yelled at by some topless girl in a towel. It’s an older photo, and doesn’t have the typical filtering that an Instagram photo would, but clearly shows a defeated look Allura finds somehow familiar.  
Lotor was clearly enjoying the other guy’s misery. She feels like she should say something about her current beau rather than the intriguing dark-haired stranger. “He’s definitely filled that shirt out since then.”

“That’s my girl!” Lance crows and goes back to googling something more salacious. Allura sips her coffee, and suddenly feels more reassured at her ability to remember a random meeting years ago. “We’re supposed to have coffee again today – I figured I’d come early and make sure to get my favorite spot.” Her mind returns to that dark-haired boy from years ago. She wonders if he stayed with the drunk pool girl much longer after the party. She shakes her head, trying to focus more on her upcoming coffee with Lotor than a few soft-spoken words of a distant high-school classmate. 

They chat for a bit longer, Lance unearthing a slew of shirtless Lotor photos for Allura’s amusement. She had heard all about his personal fitness guru lifestyle, and was amazed that he was interested in someone as unhealthy as she. Rather than work at maintaining an authentic athletic look, she relied on her genetics and coffee to sustain her single minded drive to finalize her studies.

Lance begins to pack up for his own intended rendezvous, promising not to overshadow her date if he can. Once he leaves, she notices that she’s almost alone in the café, save a dark-haired man a table over. 

Without meaning to, she studies the man over the rim of her coffee cup for a moment. He continues to be engrossed in his phone, hunched over with an astute look of concentration. Allura notices how the faint glow of his phone highlights a streak of white hair over his forehead, and a face curiously empty of a smile. She sips her coffee lazily, wondering what could be so interesting that he can’t even smile in such a comfortable café. Perhaps he needs one of the multitude of pillows she’s co-opted in her corner? Should she offer one?

A cold breeze scatters her thoughts and instantly Lotor is beside her beaming with delight. He thunks down a half-finished protein shake from a different shop on the table, turning it to present the logo to her. “You should see this new smoothie bar, Allura. They’ll add an extra scoop of free chia seeds if you do 20 pushups for them!”

Allura makes an interested noise in her through as she skeptically spies the drink, keeping her hands around her coffee mug. She looks back to Lotor as he fusses with hanging his jacket on the chair opposite her, and longs for the blanket of quiet that the café had previously held. Behind Lotor, she notices the dark-haired man sigh. She exhales loudly in return.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   


Of all the things to go wrong on her return flight, it was the delay of her ride home that bothered her the most. She had her work bag with her, so at least she had something to occupy her for the time she had to wait. And honestly, since her clothes, favorite pajama bottoms and make-up were in a country she was not and wouldn’t be for another week, she suddenly felt no rush to find an alternative means to get home. Lance had a switch in plans, and she might as well enjoy the forced pause. Lotor, not surprisingly, asked her to find an alternative way home as he had an early morning client and needed his beauty rest.

Ensconced in a plus lounge for her wait, Allura set up her laptop by the window overlooking one of the arrival gates. She considered a few rental listings for a moment, noticing a few that had availability that were sooner rather than later. She messaged the property manager of 2 promising candidates, hoping that they were true to their listings and not a re-purposed dorm room. She took a sip of her beer and let the ambient noise of the late-night airport flow around her.

Her body settled into a comfortable slouch, staring at the organized movements of the planes on the tarmac in front of her. She considered simply staying in the airport just to be extra early for her upcoming business trip. What’s 3 days of fake-cheery executive airport lounge staffers anyway over 3 nights of an obnoxious roommate? She started to search her email for her upcoming itinerary with sudden serious thought.

She took another sip of beer, wondering if the online reviews of the airport lounge were as truthful as she hoped. Allura was tempted to ask one of the three other people in the lounge with her such as the dark-haired man across the room, but his companion seemed to have something more pressing to say. Their one-sided conversation was getting more involved, and he seemed to be losing the battle to keep out of it. His companion started waving her hand around a white streak in his hair, while he continued to be unresponsive.

Allura went back to her review search for a moment, but was startled when she heard an undignified squawk from the other side of the room. Suddenly, the dark-haired man was holding a hand over his nose, and his companion was shouting about how it was his fault that her ring was now dirty. The woman huffed dramatically, stood up and demanded one of the lounge staffers assist her in washroom. She left the man with blood dripping through his fingers. The dark haired man hadn’t moved.

She looked around to see that the one other woman in the lounge had just witnessed what she had seen. Either still in shock, or confused, neither one of them moved. She waited for moment, hearing nothing but the tinny music playing from a far-away radio, until the other woman slowly returned to their books and distractions. Allura looked around again before sliding off her stool and retrieving a nearby box of tissues. She offered it to the dark haired man, and was momentarily touched with a thread of recognition.

“Let me help.” she breathed and waited for him to take the box. He looked through a shock of white hair at the box, but still hadn’t moved his hand from his face. His breathing sounded calm and clear, and the blood had stopped dripping from his fingers. He blinked at her, and slowly took the offered box.

“SHIRO. We’re going to be late! Let’s go!” Allura saw the dark-haired man’s shoulder’s hunch protectively and she suddenly knew where she had met him before. He had been dripping wet when they had last spoke, but the tiredness in his demeanor was the same. His dark eyes widened as he finally met Allura’s eyes, with what she hoped was a flash of recognition.

“SHIRO. COME ON.”

He moved his hand away from his face, quickly covering it with tissues. “Thank you for your help.” He said quietly, and quickly shouldered a bag. As he stood up, Allura noted how he straightened his shoulders before turning to his companion. “Sorry, Honerva. Won’t happen again.” She turned and started off without acknowledging his apology.

One hand still on his face, he sighed and started to walk out of the lounge, leaving Allura still in place beside his now vacant chair. She shook her head and looked back at the chair, noticing some errant business cards on the seat. Curious, retrieved the pair of cards and ran her finger lightly over the embossed name _Takashi Shirogane._

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Her favorite café is sparsely populated at this time on a Thursday. Families would have left by now, and it was too early for the couples on dates to come in. She should have been at home getting ready for her own dinner plans, but she wanted to savour this feeling just a bit longer. She wasn’t even interested in Tall Guy with No Hair she had promised to meet, but Lance was always saying how she saw too much of other people on dates and never seemed to be on one herself anymore.

  
Eventually, her phone reminds her how little time she now has to make herself presentable for Tall Guy with No Hair and she reluctantly gathers her dirty coffee cup for the server. She reaches for her laptop and jacket and catches her reflection in the window – white hair in a fashionably messy bun, makeup done more for a café than some Currently Trendy hotspot. Maybe she can fake it a bit and just go straight to – no, Allura. You have to put some effort into it. She sighs and straightens her chair for the next guest. 

She leaves the café, and pauses to wrap her scarf closer to her neck before heading off. She casts one more look back inside the café when she notices him, quietly speaking on the phone, not 2 tables over from where she was just a moment ago. She stops right in front of him wondering how she didn’t notice? She had emailed him a few times over the months after seeing him at the airport, and never once had a response. For one wine-fueled weekend, she had even obsessively googled him for answers - nothing. And then suddenly - that white streak, the scar, right there. Her legs keep her rooted for moment longer than she had planned, which was just enough time for Shiro to feel her gaze and look over. He sees her, slowly moves the phone away from his ear and offers a small smile. Allura blinked and Shiro offers a hesitant wave. Before she realizes it, her hand makes a small wave itself. His smile grows a bit more, as she continues to stand in front of the window, with him framed by empty seats. He abruptly disconnects the call and calmly places the phone on the table in front of him. He looks so different from the last time she saw him, almost refreshed.

Her phone reminds her about something unimportant, but she reminds herself that it’s more important than his stupid smile and her stupid return smile. She starts walking down the street, wondering if he was in the café the entire time she was.

  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
Her work keeps her occupied enough during the week, but without the unending flow of emails on the weekends, she finds the lazy pace of home more than unnerving. So she ignores the gorgeous summer day outside and heads to the café, contented to stake her claim to the right side of the window where she can watch the roundabout and its traffic in comfort. Its momentum and energy is at a distance, and she has free wifi to keep her content during any lulls.

“You spend too much time here. You should get a cat.” Lance declares over his pumpkin-sweetness drink. She laughs at the thought. She was reluctantly social at the best of times, why force another creature in the mix? 

“I’m social enough. I had a breakfast date earlier today.” She swirls the remaining coffee in her cup a bit, pondering the traffic outside. “He seemed nice, given the size of his biceps.” Lance takes the bait, and drills her on the juicy details. She relents, entertaining him with an imitation of her potential suitor’s unfortunate bicep to wit ratio.  
Afterwards, Lance reluctantly departs for his class, with the promise that if he returns and finds her still at the café afterwards, he will call “Mr. Overly Bicep-tual” himself for a second date. No promises are made as she turns back to the traffic, realizing that she may be doomed to her fate. Lance has good intentions, and the café is just that comfortable. 

“Is this seat taken?” she’s pulled from her daze by the simple question. She can’t help but smile as she moves her bag over for Shiro.

“I may be mistaken, but I think you live here.” He sets his coffee down and moves his muffin within sharing distance. She notices that it’s a Morning Glory and pointed takes a bitesize chunk off.

“You may or may not be mistaken. The seats are that cozy.” She grabs extra napkins from another seat and passes them over to him. She snags another bite of muffin as he takes his first sip of coffee. As she’s chewing, she moves to snag another bite making his eyebrow rise. She smiles, and decapitates the muffin gracefully. He feigns outrage, but doesn’t make a move towards the remaining portion.

They sit in silence for a moment, drinking their coffee and saying nothing. She realizes that he has never seen her with her hair down before, and wonders why she would just think that. She has only caught glimpses at him in the most inconvenient moments, why would she care what he would think of her hair? She could use that pencil in her purse to put it – “Would now be a good time?” he starts.

Her thoughts stop, worried that she missed the first part of his statement. “Good time for what?” not the best response, but she honestly has no idea what he’s talking about.

“To give you my thanks.” He starts, his smile has now taken over his eyes, making them sparkle. The thin scar over his nose seems to have faded a bit, which she finds reassuring. They both let his words hang.

He fiddles with his mug, and decides to continue “I don’t know how, but you seem to be around when I’ve suddenly become stuck. And each time, I never really get to properly thank you, or return the favour or even let you know what happened…So..” he promptly runs out of breath, or words. Either way, he moves his lips wordlessly as he starts up “…So, if I can make it up to you, I’d like to. I mean, it doesn’t have to be a box of tissue or pulling a drowning drunk asshole out of a pool, but maybe move your furniture or something. If you’re free, that is.” 

They study each other for a moment, the sunlight from the window brightening his white steak of hair to a shade similar to her own. She noticed there was grey starting to peek out from his undercut, even though his face was still smooth and wrinkle-free. He had kept up his physique and could easily compare to her breakfast companion, but there was a different maturity in his eyes that drew her in. He seemed content to wait for her answer.

Her lips seem to move on their own. “I’m free now. Would you like another coffee?”  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to anyone who actually sat through my grammatically incorrect drivel. This story has been on the backburner since S3, and it's finally done. Creative feedback is most welcome!


End file.
